


One Night in Ishgard

by Shammoner



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Generic Female WoL, Ishgard Sandwich, Minor 4.4 Spoilers, Multi, Post 4.4 MSQ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shammoner/pseuds/Shammoner
Summary: “You think of your own desires as secondary to the safety of Eorzea,” he said, as if confirming the basis of her speech.“Yes? Yes.” She replied, and paused a moment before continuing.  “Hydaelyn.  The safety of Hydaelyn.  I seem to have adopted Doma into my care as well, and who knows where I’ll go from here.  One woman’s desires are a small thing in the face of all that.”“Not,” Aymeric replied firmly, “to us.”





	One Night in Ishgard

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again at the Krispy Kreme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  
> Listen I'm posting this before I can talk myself out of it  
> I'm physically incapable of writing porn without like 6000 words of setup or something, so uh, abandon hope all ye who enter here  
> Also this takes place post 4.4 MSQ so there are some mild spoilers at the beginning  
> Enjoy, I guess?? (Don't get your hopes up too much I s2g)  
> Also: thanks to Mattoid for reading part of this to check some things for me!! I appreciate you, Matty.

****Why she found herself walking the frost-lined streets of Ishgard, she couldn’t really say.  Too much had happened in the recent past, perhaps; she could have stayed at the Rising Stones, but despite Lyse’s admonitions to keep an eye on Alisaie, too much hovering and the bright, prickly Elezen girl would notice for certain.  Better to give her some time to breathe and grieve and worry on her own.

She stubbornly refused to admit she was doing the same.  It was just that for her, a change in locale made it less...immediate.  Less apparent, somehow. She could argue it let her mind wander onto other tracks, trying to mentally map the different threats facing Hydaelyn and how best to face each one.

The truth was, right now, she didn’t quite know what to do, and for some reason she’d decided to come here.  She tried to be surprised when her feet led her to the wide double doors leading into the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly, but she couldn’t really muster up the appropriate emotion.  Firmalbert was on duty, as he was often as the day grew long, and offered her a single solemn nod as she pushed the doors open.

Inside was quiet.  She found herself uncertain for a different reason--she had no idea if Aymeric had even made it back from the meeting in Ala Mhigo, or if he were away on business, but Handeloup looked up as she entered and offered her a smile when he caught sight of her face.

“My Lady Warrior,” he said.  “Have you come to see Ser Aymeric?”

_Am I so transparent?_ she wondered, but nodded.  “If he’s not too busy, of course.”

“I doubt he would be, at this time of day,” the knight said after a moment’s thought.  “We have moved his office, though. His old one wasn’t--ahm--spacious enough for someone who’s serving as the leader of the House of Lords.”

He let the end of the sentence hang, the unspoken words there, _and de facto leader of Ishgard._ She didn’t comment, however, merely nodded again.

“I should think he’d need more space to welcome guests and hold books and files,” she offered as an out.  “Has he thought about moving up to the Pillars?”

Handeloup’s expression became..if not unfriendly...a bit more closed off.  “Well, it’s a complicated situation,” he temporized, and she fought the urge to smirk.  She had a feeling that the knight’s stoic response was putting the situation lightly, but she certainly wasn’t here to judge on Ishgardian politics.

“I’m sure it is,” she said.  “I’m not here on a political visit, though.  If you’d be so kind to show me where Ser Aymeric is holed up?”

“Of course,” he said, his expression thawing again.  “Right this way.”

* * *

Aymeric’s new office proved to be on the ground floor, but bracketed by a series of hallways that made her think it probably hadn’t been an office at all to begin with.  Her suspicion was confirmed when Handeloup opened the door to show her in and she was met with a windowless room with floor-to-ceiling shelves on two walls, tightly covered lanterns, and a fireplace with a mesh grate so fine she doubted a single spark could find its way out.  The room had probably been a file repository or reading room for the knights, and judging by several crates packed full of paper that were stacked in a corner, they’d probably done the bare minimum necessary to convert it to an office space.

A desk had been either repurposed or moved in, along with several extra chairs (likely for visitors), a small tea service next to the fireplace on a cart, and a coat-tree next to the door.  Aymeric himself was still in his usual armor, which she supposed was force of habit, and going through a stack of papers at the desk when she walked in.

Handeloup excused himself and left as Aymeric looked up, his brow furrowed first in what was probably mild annoyance at an interruption, though his expression smoothed to happiness as he recognized her, and then concern after just a second.

“My friend,” he said, jabbing his quill back into its inkwell and standing.  “What brings you to Ishgard? I heard about the other Scions--grim tidings, that--do you require aid?”

She was, honestly, quite touched at his concern, but shook her head to reassure him.  “Thank you, but no. At least, not in any official capacity. We have little clue as to what is happening, and fewer leads.  No, I just couldn’t...stay in Mor Dhona any longer, not without...ripping my hair out, or something equally useless.”

His expression melted into one of sympathy.  “I...believe I understand the feeling. You’re just here for a visit, then?”

“Aye, if you’re not too busy,” she said, not wanting to admit that she hadn’t really come here on purpose, that this had just been the first place her feet took her.  She supposed that for some reason, Ishgard still had that feeling of a safe haven in the back of her mind, even if her flight from Ul’dah was no longer recent, even if the dark-haired Lord Knight in front of her wasn’t the bastard son of Fortemps that had fought for them so fiercely.  Whatever rapport she had built with Aymeric was...newer, less certain, but she still thought of him as more than merely an ally. Perhaps a personal friend? She wasn’t even sure if they were on a first-name basis, for all that he’d greeted _her_ as a friend.  The note of uncertainty that went through her as she thought that must have somehow been obvious, because he made a motion as if to reach out, and cleared his throat.

“Nothing I have on my desk cannot wait,” he assured her firmly.  “Come, sit by the fire a while. I’ll pour you a mug of tea, and you can tell me how your trip through Coerthas treated you.  Did you come straight from Mor Dhona?”

She nodded, somewhat mutely, as he moved over to the tea service, filling the teapot from a flask of water and then pulling the grate back to hang the pot over the fire.  She stepped closer, and, when he directed her to the chair nearer the door, a highback affair that faced the fireplace directly, she sat nearly on the edge of the cushion.

“I did, actually,” she said.  “It wasn’t too bad--I suppose the knights had cleared the road recently.  I went by way of Daniffen Pass…” her voice trailed off, as she stopped, not wanting to admit she’d done so to avoid Camp Dragonhead, but if he guessed, he was mercifully quiet about it.  “I saw a few of the usual elementals and the like, but nothing serious.”

He nodded.  “Good. We’ve been doing enough trade with Revenant’s Toll that we’d be cutting off our nose to spite our face if we didn’t keep roads clear--all of them.  The route through Daniffen is shorter, so it’s in our best interest to make sure it’s safe anyway. I may see about posting a couple of sentries along the route.”

“Still as icy as ever,” she said after a moment of silence, unwilling to let the quiet draw itself out and become awkward.  “I would have thought it would break a bit, by now.”

“The scars of the Calamity run deep here, friend,” he said with a sigh.  “I’m not sure the ice will ever melt, at least not in the highlands. We’re in talks with the Vanu Vanu to expand our farms in the Sea of Clouds, at least, and with the hunters of Tailfeather and dragons of Anyx Trine to establish a few out in the Forelands.  That, along with trade with the Toll and Idyllshire, should keep us well supplied on things we can’t grow here any longer.”

“It’s still a bad situation,” she said softly.  “But I suppose us mere mortals will simply have to play the hand we’ve been dealt in it.”

“Just so,” he said, and went on to catch her up on the goings-on about Ishgard itself while the water boiled.  Soon enough, she had a mug of tea in her hands, and found herself laughing as he described a meeting between some rather uptight nobles and a draconic ambassador with a wicked sense of humor.

Perhaps it was the laughter that signaled the tipping point, a marker that she’d truly relaxed into the grip of the chair, warmed from the fire and the tea, but she scarcely noticed her eyelids growing heavy, and by the time she was nodding off, she missed the knowing expression on Aymeric’s face and his quick rescue of her mug.  Lulled by the crackling fire, she sank back into the chair and into slumber.

* * *

When she woke, she at first wasn’t sure why, or where she was, or even what time it was.  A feeling of _safety_ kept her instincts from immediately snapping her to full, fight-ready awareness, and she was glad of that when she heard the soft murmur of voices behind her.

The way her chair was positioned, it faced the fire almost completely, the wide wings on either side blocking the view of almost the entire room.  The door was behind and to her left, Aymeric’s desk behind and to her right. She found that at some point, someone--she assumed Aymeric--had covered her with a soft, warm woolen throw.  It was tucked in around her up to her chin, and she closed her eyes for a moment to savor the feeling and the radiant heat on her face before the voices reached her ears again.

“...haven’t seen you in...I don’t know how long,” Aymeric was saying.  His voice was rough, concerned, almost angry. “Not since you slipped out of your sickroom and left without a word to any of us--”

Oh, this was interesting.  Trying not to alert them to her presence, she shifted ever-so-slightly, much as if someone still sleeping might move, so that the sound of their voices reached her better.

“You know exactly how long it’s been, don’t lie,” the other voice said.  A bit flat, but not humorless. Just uncompromising. “I’d bet you’d know down to the day, if not the hour.”

“Without a _word_ , Estinien,” Aymeric continued, confirming her guess.  “Did you think we wouldn’t understand? That we wouldn’t, I don’t know--”

“What I thought was that I needed...time.  Time and space, to figure out everything in my...my everything,” Estinien retorted, punctuating the statement with an explosive sigh.  “By Halone’s _oh-so-tender_ mercies, Aymeric, you have no idea what I went through.”

“Of course I don’t,” Aymeric replied, tone slightly icy.  “You _never told me._ ”

By the Twelve, was this a lover’s quarrel? She bit down on her lip sharply to prevent herself from making any noise.  She had some notion that the two were old friends, and the way Aymeric had scooped up the fallen Dragoon just after they’d pried the damnable eyes away from him had told her _something_ about the two being close, but--

“I didn’t want to--I wanted to be sure Nidhogg wasn’t coming back,” Estinien replied.  His tone was bleak. “That there wasn’t some--some part of him still lingering in the back of my mind.  How could I handle it if I got angry and--and somehow he was still there, ready to rend everything, everyone I loved to pieces?”

“Estinien,” Aymeric said, but his tone was softer, wondering.

She suddenly knew that she shouldn’t be hearing this.  This was _personal_ , on a level the two men clearly kept buttoned up in public, and she doubted they’d be speaking if they knew she were aware enough to make out their words.  Despite the fact that she’d come here for...safety, for the companionship of a friend, she knew that she wasn’t the only one who needed Aymeric’s company right now, and she’d no doubt in her mind at the moment that Estinien’s situation--and relationship--took priority over hers.  There was a brief moment of bitterness at that, which she squashed down. These two had history, some of which she’d guessed at, but what she’d guessed was only a tiny part of the whole.

It was time for her to leave.  She wasn’t sure where she’d go--perhaps back to Mor Dhona?  She tried to ignore how the idea left her feeling utterly hopeless.  Just the thought of seeing Alisaie’s conflicted expression and the array of quietly pitying looks she’d receive from the others made her feel like she’d just downed an entire mug of vinegar rather than fine Ishgardian tea.

What choice had she, though?  
How best to play this off...her mind ran through the options, and she finally decided that waking as if she _wasn’t_ secure in her surroundings would do it.  She eased back, eyes shut, and gave herself another long breath.  If they were still speaking, she hadn’t heard the last few words, but she suddenly gasped, clawing at the sides of the chair as she wrenched her eyes open.

“What...where…” she stammered, giving herself a moment to ‘settle’ and come to terms with her surroundings.  “Oh, Gods…”

“Who--” Estinien suddenly blurted out, sounding properly astonished himself, and she heard the click of his greaves as he took a step back, clearly about to bolt.

“Stay where you are,” Aymeric said, she assumed to Estinien, his tone clearly scolding.  A second later his face appeared around the edge of the chair. “Ah, you’re back with us, are you?  You must have needed the rest, to fall asleep here so quickly.” He smiled, though his expression was a bit strained around the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not bothering to hide her blush of embarrassment.  “I certainly didn’t mean to. I’ll...I’d best be going, I’m sure they can pencil me in at the Knight for the rest of the night.”

She pushed the throw aside with a moment of regret, already missing its soft, enveloping warmth, and stretched her legs, one and then the other, before pushing herself to her feet.  She stepped around the chair towards the door, not wanting to give Estinien any incorrect ideas about her presence here, and looked up just in time to see recognition dawn in his eyes.

“It’s you,” he said, somewhat inanely.  “Have you been here the whole time? I couldn’t even see you in that chair.”

She would have laughed at such a pointless statement, perhaps, if she weren’t feeling both the lingering effects of sleep and a kind of completely irrational jealousy.  As it was, she managed to crack an uncertain smile.

“Well, I...I hadn’t intended to stay so long,” she said, temporizing.  “I just needed to...get away for awhile. From Mor Dhona, from the Scions.  I suppose I came here on instinct.”

“Hm,” Estinien muttered, eyes narrowing.  Something about her statement must be ringing a bit false to him, but as far as she was concerned, it was true.  She hadn’t really lied; she really had no idea what had drawn her specifically to Aymeric’s doorstep, and she hadn’t had any plans to stay as long as she had, primarily because she hadn’t had any plans in the first place.  She attempted a smile, which only made Estinien look more suspicious, so she turned to look at Aymeric instead, who looked--confused. Perhaps a bit forlorn? She couldn’t begin to fathom why that would be.

“Thank you for the tea and for allowing me a bit of rest, Ser Aymeric,” she said.  He flinched a little at the ‘Ser’, which she did her best to ignore. “I’m sure I will see you again soon, for one reason or another.”

With that, she quickly stepped to the door and out, doing her best to ignore anything he or Estinien might be saying.  If she were pressed, later, she could claim she hadn’t heard them, which would probably be safest. The mazelike corridors of the Congregation were darker than before, proving night had well and truly fallen, but she had no real concept of just _how_ late it was.  Her sense of direction bore out, though, and she soon found herself back out in the foyer; Handeloup was gone, and in his place stood Lucia, who seemed a bit startled to see her emerge.  Unwilling to enter a conversation with the ex-Garlean agent, she merely nodded in Lucia’s direction, and something in her expression must have said more than words alone could, for Lucia’s gaze softened and she merely returned the nod with a brief wave.

That done, she stepped back outside of the Congregation, giving a similar nod to Firmalbert, still on duty, and trying to ignore how the icy air made her eyes sting.  She braced herself, and glanced toward the Forgotten Knight, but for her words about getting a room there, she didn’t think she wanted to stay.

She scolded herself as she got her feet moving, heading across Saint Valeroyant’s Forum and angling herself toward the Arc of the Worthy.  She would walk all night through a blizzard to be away from this place, right now, and the rational part of her mind was squabbling with the irrational over that.  She hadn’t had any expectations about spending time in Aymeric’s company--how could she, when she hadn’t even had his office in mind as a destination when she left Mor Dhona?  However, in a way the memory of his smile was as warming as a fire, and by the Twelve, if she was beginning to _think_ in maudlin poetry she was worse off than she’d thought.  Just one more reason to be away.

Her jealousy over Estinien was shaky at best, too.  It was there, but she couldn’t sustain it, not knowing what the both of them had been through, and that they had history she couldn’t even guess at.  It was quite likely, from the way they spoke, that their relationship had been more than mere friendship long before she’d ever entered the picture. She couldn’t even lie to herself about the fact that she’d started to...appreciate...Estinien, in more than one sense.  From his abrasive self-assurance to his possession by Nidhogg’s vengeful spirit, he was more than just the gruff, one-dimensional dragonslayer that many seemed to view him as. Between rumors and confirmed tales of his exploits in Gyr Abania and the Azim Steppe, she could tell that he was forging ahead with a new path, probably with that grim, set expression on his face that made people bolt out of his way with frightening frequency.

_You’re greedy,_ her conscience supplied, much to her dismay.   _Don’t deny you’ve thought about both of them in ways that would make an awful lot of people blush, and no small part of your temper right now is because you’ve got proof they’re with one another and you’re not part of the equation._

She scowled and kicked a loose rock, which bounced across the rimed cobblestones toward the gates ahead, only to come to a stop under the mailled boot of a tall, imposing figure that had just stepped out from behind an abandoned wain to fix her with a withering stare.

_Shite._

“Estinien,” she said, keeping her tone as flat as possible.  How had he gotten ahead of her? She somehow wouldn’t doubt that he had flung himself across the rooftops, since she doubted he’d lost _any_ of his formidable skills from being the Azure Dragoon.  In this case, it didn’t matter. “I’ve nothing to say to you.” Well, that was far from the truth, and came out colder than she’d meant it to, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

He barked out a laugh.  “Ah, you’re a _terrible_ liar,” he said.  “Rather like someone else I know.  As it goes, it doesn’t matter a whit whether you’ve got anything to say to me, because I’ve something to say to you, and you’re going to listen.”

That rankled.  She didn’t want to sit here in the cold and be subject to some kind of angry lecture from him when she hadn’t done anything.  In fact, she’d removed herself from the situation precisely so he didn’t think that! She scowled fiercely and walked right up to him, reaching out to poke him right in the chest--well, in his armor--as she snapped out her next words.

“You do, do you?” she snarled.  “Well, I don’t want to hear it! I’m leaving, I’ve wits enough to know when I’m a dodo among the chocobos, and I’m not going to stay here and be lectured for it when I haven’t even done anything wrong.  Once I’m past those gates, you won’t see me back until I have official business here, and that’s a promise.” She poked his chest once more for emphasis, which honestly kind of hurt, but she refused to show it.

She was, of course, thrown off balance entirely as his expression shifted to one of confusion and he blurted out something to match his bewildered mien.  “What in the seven hells are you going on about? I’ve no idea what you even think you’ve done, but that’s not why I chased you down!”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, and frowned.  Was it possible she’d badly misinterpreted things? Maybe she’d just left something behind in Aymeric’s office, though she didn’t think she had.  “I...well, okay then, what?” she offered after a moment.

“I came to find you because Aymeric was properly devastated when you walked out like that, and halfway to thinking he’d done something to offend you.  I told him to head home--he’d only been waiting in his office because you were asleep, did you know _that_?--and that I’d try to track you down and convince you to head back there with me,” Estinien replied, crossing his arms.  His expression was ever-so-slightly smug as she blinked once, twice, and then blushed, at which point he smirked so widely she had a sudden urge to slap the expression right off his beautiful face.

“Wh...why?” she managed to say.  “That doesn’t...why would you want me to go back there, with you?  I promise you I can sleep on a bed in the Knight or on the ground somewhere or just walk until I get back to Mor Dhona!  I’ve been through worse!”

He rolled his eyes and exhaled sharply.  “Look,” he said. “I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, but I’m not stupid, and neither is Aymeric.  I saw the expression in your eyes as you were leaving his office, and I saw the way he looked at you, or toward you at least, while you were sleeping in that chair.”

She was even _more_ confused now.  “If you saw that, why would you want me to go back to his house with you?” she asked, her voice small now, shaken, in a way the brave and mighty Warrior of Light seldom was.  It embarrassed her; worse, it shamed her, but she forced herself to keep going. “I--I actually woke before it seemed I did. I heard the last few lines of your conversation, I--that’s what I meant, about being a dodo among chocobos.  I don’t...want to do anything to come between you.”

His gaze narrowed slightly and he hummed thoughtfully for a second as he composed his thoughts.  “I see. That does explain a bit. However, what if I told you that we _do_ want you to...how did you put it... _come between us._ ”

The inflection he put on those three words was nothing like the one she’d chosen, and also left very little to the imagination.  If she’d been blushing before, it was almost certainly nothing compared to the way she looked now. She thought for a moment she might _faint_ , right then and there, or perhaps drop dead right before the Arc of the Worthy.  She briefly considered that she might be dreaming, even, but she didn’t think her mind could concoct this kind of scenario, such a unique combination of complete mortification and confirmation of her desires.  Usually it was only one or the other. Only real life could possibly cough up both at the same time.

“I...I…” she stammered out, really not sure how to respond.  “Aymeric...knows?” she finally settled on.

“Of course he does,” Estinien replied promptly.  “He’s probably angry that I snuck out of the infirmary before he could get the three of us together to suggest it, back before you went off to champion an entire revolution or two.  I had my own demons to exorcise, though.” He raised an eyebrow and offered her his arm, for all the world as if this were a courtly ball and not two people arguing in the freezing night.  “So. House Borel? At least to talk.”

Talk.  She could handle talking, she did that all the time, and sometimes the words even made sense.  She reached out and put a hand on his rapidly chilling armor, and nodded. “I--okay. To talk.”

* * *

Of course, the courtly pose didn’t last, both because his armor was getting colder much more rapidly than she’d expected and because they had to go single-file to pass a shift change of knights patrolling around the environs of the Hoplon.  As the night deepened and a freezing mist began to descend upon them, it became easier to convince herself that she’d made the whole thing up, that it had been some kind of hallucination brought about by the cold and stress. She’d heard stranger.

She was just beginning to debate whether she could lag behind a bit and then vanish into an alley when Estinien turned and fixed her with a withering glare, as if he could read her very thoughts.  She bristled at his expression, but he merely waited for her to catch up, and then put a hand at the small of her back to guide her the rest of the way to House Borel.

That, of course, was much more tolerable, not in the least because the palm of his gauntlets was shaped leather, and not nearly as frigid as the metal she’d been holding onto before.  However, it also made her pulse jump into her throat and her face burn as she remembered his words before, and as her mind frantically jumped from one possibility to the next about what could _possibly_ be awaiting her.

He’d said it was just to talk, though.  She clung to that fact, if only for the simple reason that considering anything else made her feel like she _was_ going to pass out right there in the street.  Fortunately, her mind running circles around itself passed the time quite readily, and it seemed only moments before they fetched up on the front step of Aymeric’s manor.  The door opened almost instantly upon Estinien’s knock, and the wizened--and somewhat knowing--gaze of the head steward met their eyes.

She averted her gaze, cursing herself as a fool, as Estinien dropped some money into the man’s hand and murmured, “Have the rest of the night off, would you?”

The steward, however, merely seemed happy about the windfall...as he might, for she recalled that House Borel was nowhere near the level of wealth or luxury of the High Houses, and Estinien’s...tip?  Bribe? Was probably enough to guarantee him a fine meal and drink at almost any place in the Pillars he might choose, even so late at night.

Moreover, it seemed likely that the steward might be the only servant that stayed through the night, so Estinien might have removed the only potential witness to any kind of embarrassment she might suffer in the near term.  She found herself strangely grateful to the man, even if his actions might be considered crass; in his own way, he was quite thoughtful, a fact she knew quite well by now, though it always seemed to surprise her regardless.

“Come on,” he said shortly.  “This armor is freezing, and I told Aymeric there was no telling the last time you’d eaten, and that I hadn’t since noon, so I’m sure he’s unearthed _some_ matter of sustenance and poked up a fire in his chambers.  Let’s not keep him waiting.”

_In his chambers,_ she thought to herself, but followed Estinien as he started off down the hall.  She noticed he kept his spear on his back even here, which made her feel a little better about keeping her own weapon, but something about this situation felt much more dangerous than a mere battle.  Perhaps it was just that it was much more uncertain, if only for her.

Estinien knew his way around the manor like the back of his hand, even in the dimly lit halls, confirming her suspicions that the two men had a relationship stronger than mere friendship.  The lamps were oil lamps trimmed low enough that the flames flickered behind the glass, and there was a pervasive chill in the air. House Fortemps had always been warm, even in the servant’s passages, and well-lit; however, it didn’t bother her to see House Borel was different.  If anything, she found it sensible to save money on such non-essential things if it could be better used elsewhere.

The manor wasn’t that large, so they only had to go up one flight of stairs and turn a corner before they arrived at the door to Aymeric’s rooms.  Estinien knocked but once and then went on in, leaving her with nothing to do but take a deep breath and follow. Since when was she the timorous one?  Well, perhaps since it had been implied she might be handed her desires, for she knew from experience that life was never quite so easy.

The room inside, despite being a sitting room of sorts, was as warm as one could have wished; a fireplace crackled merrily, and on the other side of the flames one could see another room, so it must have been an open hearth between here and his bedchamber.  The walls were papered in the same blue damask as the rest of the manor, but the stone of the floor was softened by a number of rugs, most woven in blue and gray, with the addition of several newer, thicker sheepskin rugs that did not at all match the style of the rest.  She guessed they had been added after the icy grip of the Calamity descended and such things became much more necessary.

Aymeric himself was here, lounging on a sofa to one side of the fireplace, but he jumped to his feet at once when they entered, and his expression on seeing her with Estinien was nothing short of joyous.  That certainly quashed some of her fears, if not all of them.

“My friend!” he exclaimed.  “Full glad I am to see you here, after all--it is far too late and too cold to spend a night shivering in the Knight or to set your feet back on the trail, and--”

Both of them jumped at a loud, metallic clank, which proved to be Estinien removing his gauntlets and simply dropping them on the floor.  “Oops,” he said without any trace of remorse. “Do go on, Aymeric. I’m sure you’ll just put her back to sleep, but that’s your business.”

Aymeric narrowed his eyes at the dragoon and sighed sharply.  “Oh, I might have missed you, but I’m not so sure I missed your tongue.”

Estinien raised an eyebrow as he pointedly dropped his other gauntlet without even looking down.  She was astounded and delighted to see Aymeric blush. “Okay, maybe I did miss your tongue, but not all your acidic little remarks,” he huffed.

“That’s what I thought,” Estinien said, pulling his hair over his shoulder and working to unfasten one of his pauldrons.  “Now, you can continue talking your way around the subject, but I have a feeling our friend might be hungry. Did you actually scavenge up something to eat, or am I going to have to go down to the pantry and do it for you?”

“Of course,” Aymeric said, sounding embarrassed.  “Here, there was a pot of dhalmel fricassee still over the fire--leftovers from tonight’s meal--and I found some rolls and a plate of cookies to go with it.”  He motioned her over to the sofa he’d been sitting at, and she noticed two covered platters on the table in front of it.

She hesitated slightly, but Estinien coughed pointedly, so instead she merely set her weapon and packs down by the door and stepped over to the sofa.  Aymeric was smiling in an encouraging fashion, so she sat down in the middle of the sofa, both to test whether Estinien’s words earlier had been true, and because it gave her access to all the platters without having to stretch.  Before she could serve herself, Aymeric had whipped the lid off of the largest and presented her with a steaming bowl of the aforementioned fricassee, which smelled too tempting to resist, so she began shoveling it in as quickly as if she were a knight in the mess hall between shifts.

Somewhere in the middle of her eating, Estinien finished removing his armor and swept his hair back over his shoulder.  She was dimly aware of his gaze on her, and looked up at him just as she had a forkful in her mouth; his expression was...well, _predatory_ , and she nearly choked as he closed the distance to the sofa faster than she would have thought possible, all but throwing himself down on the cushion to her right and snatching a bowl of food for his own.

“Couple of walking stomachs, the both of you,” Aymeric chided gently, even as he sat down to her left and picked up a teapot.  She was a bit glad to see that, rather than a jug of mulled wine or the like, because it gave her a moment’s thought that perhaps Estinien had been right and they really _were_ just going to talk.  In any case, she felt like piling liquor on top of her already precarious mental state might not be the wisest idea at the moment.

Bowl empty, she accepted a cup and saucer from Aymeric, a single cookie balanced beside the teacup, and she wasted no time in picking up the confection and dunking it in the tea to the defiance of all the advice the etiquette tutor at Fortemps Manor had offered.  Aymeric sighed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Estinien grinning.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, lifting the cookie to see if it was to her liking.

“Oh, he just lost a bet,” Estinien replied.  “I bet him you’d do that, and he was adamant you wouldn’t.”

She was taken aback at that.  “What? Do you two have a habit of betting on my behavior?”

“Not much of it,” Estinien said.  “See, we bet on _that_ because I do the same, and it drives Aymeric up the wall--”

“It does not!” Aymeric protested at once.  “I just _said_ that if you ever did it in public, people would be scandalized--”

“--and as for other things, it was mostly an excuse to think of things we’d like to do once we got you to ourselves,” Estinien continued breezily, as if he wasn’t being blunt enough to make her entire _face_ turn red.  “You know, if you were agreeable.”  With that, he leaned over and ate the cookie right out of her fingers, snapping it up with such deftness that it took her a moment to even comprehend what had just happened.

“You...you!” she exclaimed all at once.  “That was my cookie, and you just stole it, you terrible--”

“By Halone, you just had to go and do the cookie thing first off, didn’t you,” Aymeric said.  “We do have more, a whole plate of them, so please ignore Estinien’s behavior--”

“No, I will _not!”_ she declared hotly, having the presence of mind to put the teacup and saucer down before she rounded on Estinien.  “He’s been aggravating me ever since he found me about to go out the gates, dropping hints and being abrasive, and I’m just not going to put up with it much lo---ah!”

She was cut off as Estinien dropped his bowl back on the table, swallowed the cookie, and then pulled her into his lap, fast as lightning, and just as shocking from the way her blood sang in her veins.  His hand, bare now, went to the side of her face, thumb under her eye, and he forced her to meet his gaze for a long second. It was all she could, that second, without feeling like she was about to catch fire and burn away; he was looking for assent, she supposed, and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe, could barely give the tiniest of nods, and then he was kissing her.

She might have daydreamed here and there about what it would be like to kiss Estinien, or Aymeric, or others, but nothing quite matched up to the reality.  He was fierce, arm pulling her body closer even as his hand tipped her head back a bit more, and he set his tongue to tangle with hers just enough to distract her before pulling back enough to nip at her lip with his teeth.  As kisses went, it certainly hadn’t been drawn out, but she gasped regardless, suddenly aching with need and tasting only the sweet cinnamon of the cookie and tea.

“Estinien, you are _impossible_ ,” she heard Aymeric growl from behind her.  “You dragged her across the city, stole her cookie, and then you didn’t even have the decency to let me sweep her off her feet first!”

“You had plenty of opportunity,” Estinien said, his lips still practically right against hers.  She shut her eyes as a shiver tracked its way through her body. “It’s hardly my fault that you have to talk your way in circles around a problem before you tackle it.  I’m a bit more straightforward, is all.”

She heard Aymeric _growl_ , and what a fascinating sound it was, before she was shocked into opening her eyes by his hands on her waist.  “Forgive me, friend, but it seems I have a score to settle with Estinien before aught else.”

She found herself tilted to the side, pressed up against the back of the couch as Aymeric lunged forward, grabbing a handful of Estinien’s hair and forcing his head back, all the better to lay a truly vicious kiss on his neck.  The groan that ripped its way out of the dragoon’s throat at that wasn’t particularly surprised, but it was definitely slightly broken, as of a man enjoying something he thought he might never have again.

It was damned hard not to feel out of place as Aymeric moved up to Estinien’s mouth, instead, because they kissed with the casual ease of lovers who’d had years and years to learn what made each other tick.  Watching it was a special kind of hell, and much as part of her wanted to, she tilted her eyes up to the ceiling instead, only to be shocked into surprise when Estinien’s hand found the side of her head again and tilted her gaze back down.  He pulled back from Aymeric with a murmur of protest from the dark-haired elezen and made a ‘tch’ noise deep in his throat.

“Aymeric, you cur, leaving the lady out in the cold,” Estinien said.  “I don’t care if she’s the Warrior of Light and been through all seven of the hells on a journey to save some sutler’s snot-nosed brat from a pack of rampaging paissa or something equally moronic, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“You’re a fine one to talk about leaving people out in the cold,” Aymeric scolded, but all the ire was dripping out of his voice as he looked her way apologetically.  “I’m sorry, I--”

“No, I...I mean, I don’t…” she was trying very hard not to sound pathetic, not to ruin the mood, but Estinien had said they would just be talking, and yet it seemed they’d moved past that by leaps and bounds.  Still, some part of her was determined to explain herself. “I don’t--I don’t entirely know why I’m here. I can tell the two of you have...quite the history. I don’t need to complicate matters any.”

She cut off the back half of that statement, _no matter how much I’d like to,_ because she didn’t want to seem like she was begging.  She took a deep breath, meaning to go on, but Estinien reached out to cover her mouth with a hand.

“No, don’t you dare,” he said sharply.  “I can tell what kind of thoughts are probably running through your mind right now.  It’s that agonizing dance of ‘I want to but I won’t, it would be lovely but if something goes wrong it’ll be horrid, how can I dare do this if the consequences might be so dire’ and all that rot.  I know you’re thinking that because by now I know that’s what Aymeric was thinking the first time he slipped into my tent at night, of his own accord, mind you.”

Aymeric was blushing now, but he nodded.  “I’ve long preferred the diplomatic approach,” he temporized.  “It’s always seemed safer to try and map out the variables before diving in.”

“But sometimes you just have to take the plunge, even if it terrifies you,” Estinien said, running his thumb along her cheekbone.  “You went with me to the Aery on those barely-tested aircraft of Garlond’s, not knowing whether we’d survive or be flayed to mince by Nidhogg, and you brought me back from the brink after I’d been _possessed_ by him, and neither of those times did I ever see you look half so uncertain and frightened as now.  Why is that? And don’t just think it, say it out loud.”

That was the hard part, of course.  Lining the thoughts up was bad enough, but actually getting them into words?  Estinien poked her in the side with one of his long, elegant fingers when he judged she’d been thinking too long, and it was like tapping a keg, the way the words poured out of her.

“Risking my life is easy,” she said.  “I’ve been fighting for...a long time...and even if it started out on small things like pirates and sahagin and lower-rung voidsent, it ramped up in a hurry.  Do you know how many primals I’d slain by the time I went into the Aery with you? Did you know that I’d added more on to the count by the time I faced that spectre of Nidhogg?  It’s what I _do_.  The Scions point me at a threat, and I address that threat.  It doesn’t make me afraid because it’s what I am. It’s what I do.  If I died doing it, it would be in service of the world. This…” she paused briefly to gesture between the three of them.  “It’s selfish. It’s nothing to do with saving the world. It’s all about my personal desires, and a very real possibility of ruining friendships with two men I admire very much, and the balance of it all doesn’t match up to the other.”

Aymeric moved closer, and slipped an arm around her waist from behind.  “You think of your own desires as secondary to the safety of Eorzea,” he said, as if confirming the basis of her speech.

“Yes? Yes.” She replied, and paused a moment before continuing.  “Hydaelyn. The safety of Hydaelyn. I seem to have adopted Doma into my care as well, and who knows where I’ll go from here.  One woman’s desires are a small thing in the face of all that.”

“Not,” Aymeric replied firmly, “to us.”

Estinien pulled her back into his lap, which was a feat with Aymeric’s arm still around her, except that he shifted to stay in contact.  “Tell us what you want from us,” the dragoon demanded roughly.

“I--I don’t know,” she started to say, but Estinien growled, and Aymeric shook his head.  She could feel his hair tickling the side of her face.

“You know,” Aymeric said.  “And we know. We _want_ to know what you want from us.  What you _desire_ from us.  If you must tend to Hydaelyn’s needs, then let _us_ tend to _yours_.”

She melted a little bit from his tone--velvet over steel, a kind of uncompromising softness, and as if to punctuate that statement, Estinien rolled his hips up, the long, hard line of his cock evident even through their clothing, and she gasped.

“Fine,” she snapped out.  “I desire both of you, at the same time, like the greediest--I would as much as beg for scraps from the table of your ardor for each other, and be delighted if I got even that, because I long for you--the both of you--and admire you, and never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that something like this might happen, because it’s just too--too unreal, too impossible, too _good_ to actually be happening!”

“Impossible, says the Eikon-slayer,” Estinien said with an incredulous laugh.

“Too unreal, says the woman who ended our thousand-year war,” Aymeric replied in a tone of absolute reproof.

“You do the impossible daily, but refuse to accept that you could be on the other side of it for once,” Estinien said.  “Well, it’s time we corrected _that.”_

“You do want this, yes?” Aymeric asked, his voice lower, soothing.  “This isn’t too much?”

It very nearly was, but the part of her that charged headlong into unexplored dungeons had the reins now.  “No,” she whispered. “It might be just enough.”

“Good answer,” Estinien said.  “Make that leap.” With that, he pinned her against his chest with one strong arm and stood all at once, which had the double effect of dislodging Aymeric’s arm and making her cry out in surprise.  She clung to him with both arms and her legs around his waist, which he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Aymeric looked a bit annoyed that Estinien had gotten the jump on him yet again, and was on his feet a moment later as Estinien fairly leapt over to the bedchamber door, so swiftly did he move.  All she could do was hold on for dear life, heart in her throat and entirely uncertain about what might happen next, though beginning to be excited about it rather than filled with nervous disbelief.

Aymeric closed the door behind him as he followed them in, though by that time Estinien had already deposited her on the bed, which was a lavish, massive four-poster with heavy curtains to keep out the chill.  Those curtains had been drawn on two sides, that nearest the door and at the foot, which looked out at the fireplace. The remaining two had the effect of enclosing the space a bit, darkening it enough that the flickering fire threw odd shadows and heated the space nicely.

That was all well and good, except that she felt a bit over-warm at the moment as it was, and she barely had a chance to sit up a bit before Estinien had followed her down to the mattress, one hand on her shoulder and his mouth on hers once again.  His hair fell over his shoulders, a shimmering, shifting screen of silver, fairly glittering in the firelight as it brushed her face and neck. She closed her eyes and surrendered into the kiss, shuddering as she felt his fingertips slip under the hem of her shirt and begin tracing their way up her stomach.

Aymeric wasted no time, either.  There was a dip as he sat down on the mattress, followed by the feeling of his fingers running along her arm to her hand, lifting it to his mouth to press an almost chaste kiss to her palm.

She had little time to contemplate that, as Estinien moved his hand from her shoulder to join the other, pushing her shirt up with no sign of hesitation.  She shivered, even despite the fire, as her skin was exposed, and Aymeric at least seemed to notice, running his fingers back down to her elbow, which somehow only made her shiver _more._ Estinien, on the other hand, pulled away from her just long enough to toss her shirt over his head.  She briefly thought to voice a protest, but then he was back, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her up and into his lap. A moment later, she felt Aymeric pressing up against her back, hands on her shoulders, and for a moment it was all she could do to merely sit there, bracketed by the both of them, lips swollen from kissing and breath short and thready in her lungs.

“Tell us again that you want this,” Aymeric said, hooking his chin over her shoulder.  “We only want this if you’re as enamored with the idea as us. And it doesn’t have to be both of us, at first, either, we can work our way up to--”

“Yes,” she said, interrupting him.  “Yes, I want this, I want both of you, and--and I mean that in every way.”   _Make that leap,_ Estinien had said.  She licked her lips, noting with fascination how Estinien’s eyes fixed on her mouth with burning intensity.  “Perhaps it _is_ a bit much to ask for...but I’d like both of you, from the start--I.”  She paused, trying to gather her thoughts, which was increasingly difficult with the expression on Estinien’s face, so she closed her eyes.  “You both said it yourselves...I go through every kind of danger and trial there is, so may the Twelve forgive me my impatience this once, but I want to have both of you, for none of us know what tomorrow may bring, and I--I want that to hold on to, even if we might never all meet again.”

Aymeric’s grip tightened, and Estinien scoffed, making her open her eyes back up.

“We will,” he said, catching her chin between thumb and forefinger and looking directly into her eyes, his stare commanding and wild and oddly reassuring.  “You’ll come back to us, or us to you. That isn’t promise, it’s fact.”

“He’s right,” Aymeric said firmly.  “Now turn around. I’d much like to kiss you, dearheart, especially since Estinien’s been having all the fun.”

It might have been awkward, except that they never let it get there; there was a brief moment of fumbling, but four sure, strong hands helped her turn around with no hint of clumsiness, and then she was straddling Aymeric’s hips, half-reclined as he was, and sinking into his kiss, and _oh._

It was different from Estinien, to be certain, but if she’d thought that it would be any less overwhelming, she was badly mistaken.  He might not be as direct as the dragoon, but he quickly made up for it in deftness, coaxing a moan from her with his tongue alone, but also running those clever fingers along her jaw, down her side.

She almost missed the rustling of cloth behind her, but then there was a warm weight at her back, and she knew just from the feel of skin on hers that Estinien had stripped off his shirt--and it seemed as if every inch of her could feel as keenly as her fingers, for she could feel the occasional scar as he moved against her, sliding his hands from her sides around to her belly, and then down, under the hem of her trousers and underthings.

She could also feel his arousal, especially as he flattened his palms against her skin and slid her back slightly, which made Aymeric grumble when it pulled her away a bit, but in response he merely sat up a bit more and started unfastening his own shirt.

“Still stealing the show,” he said, giving Estinien a look which was probably intended to convey annoyance, but instead just a sort of fond exasperation.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Estinien murmured, low and almost directly into her shoulder.  A moment later he dropped a kiss there, then one closer to her neck, and then bit, gently, at the juncture, there, which made her gasp, especially since he moved his hands further down as he did, and, _oh._

Her body was like a taut harpstring, just then, as his fingers grazed her clit; she was already very wet, and she knew he could tell, from the way he chuckled against her skin.  He couldn’t really get a good angle with all the cloth hampering his movement, but in a way that just added to it, and he seemed in no hurry to speed things along, for the moment just tracing circles, apparently enjoying it as she shuddered over and over again.  For her, it was a kind of torture, but then Aymeric had his shirt off and was up on his knees, tilting her head up for another kiss, leaning in and trapping Estinien’s hand between them. The added pressure was, for an instant, delightful--but it wasn’t consistent enough to provide any real relief, so she found herself moaning in frustration almost immediately.

Aymeric seemed to ignore her, which seemed monumentally unfair, kissing her lips again and then pulling back to kiss the tip of her nose, her forehead--almost-chaste, like earlier, and making her pulse hammer in her throat in a kind of delighted confusion.  Estinien was direct, but Aymeric was more willing to tease and toy, and the combination made her want to scream. Before she could, though, Aymeric had claimed her mouth again, and Estinien put more pressure to his fingers. It was just enough to tip her over the edge, but her release was a rather unsatisfying thing, strung so tight as she was, and not enough for any real kind of relief.  She gasped when Aymeric broke away for a breath, and huffed in frustration.

“Shh, now,” he said, rubbing his thumb along her lower lip.  “By the time we’re done with you, I’ll be very cross if you can even move, but it’s going to take longer than _that_ to get there.”

Her clit throbbed at that, and Estinien dragged his thumb across it in a way that almost hurt, over-sensitive as she was.  She let out a little cry, and then a longer one as he removed his hand entirely.

“We’ve all got far too many clothes on still,” the dragoon said firmly.  “Let’s fix that.”

There was a frankly hilarious moment as they both reached for her trousers at the same time, but they compromised quickly enough, with Aymeric pulling her actual clothes away and then Estinien ridding her of her underthings.  She was leaned back into Estinien’s grip, Aymeric straightening her legs out, and then Estinien had rid her of the rather simple chest-wrap that served her as a bra. She was focused on the feeling of his long, elegant fingers on her back, her sides, and then moving to her chest to cradle her breasts, but was _thoroughly_ distracted from that when Aymeric began trailing his lips down the inside of her leg, starting along the side of her shin and making it to her knee in record time.  He looked up at her, gaze smoldering hot, and continued moving higher, and she had to wrench her gaze away and take a deep breath when it became too much.

She might be the Warrior of Light, but that didn’t mean she was immune to fainting, however embarrassing it might be.  Estinien squeezed her breasts gently, prompting a moan, even as Aymeric’s hands went to her waist, her hips, then slid down to her thighs, helping to spread her legs a bit more and--

She had to look down as Aymeric kissed higher still, and did so just in time to catch the positively wicked glint in his eyes right before he leaned in to put his tongue to _very_ good use.  She felt almost completely overwhelmed in moments, and her hands found their way to his hair almost unconsciously, not pulling but definitely sinking in, trying desperately to find some kind of anchor a he threatened to send her to pieces.

However, if she though he’d be quick about it, she was wrong; she should have guessed that from the way he’d kissed her earlier, but he would draw her almost to the edge before backing off, sometimes merely lessening the intensity of his attentions, and other times halting completely.  Estinien kept toying with her breasts all the while, showing restraint she hadn’t expected from his earlier actions--right until he gave her nipples a sharp pinch just as Aymeric brought her so close to release she was sure that this time he’d be merciful.

He wasn’t, however, and the moan of vexed frustration that she let out made both men chuckle slightly.  Estinien’s breath was hot on the side of her neck, and Aymeric slipped one hand down, working those long, elegant fingers inside her and up--

It was not nearly enough, not even after being teased so thoroughly, at least not alone.  He leaned back in, though, putting his tongue back to her clit, and this time he didn’t tease or toy or even go slow--he just gave her the pressure she’d been needing, at the same time sinking his fingers deeper and crooking them in a way that felt truly amazing, and then she was lost to pleasure for a long moment, crying out in sheer ecstasy as it washed through her.

She felt almost boneless when she came back to her senses, only to find Aymeric looking at her with a very pleased expression on his face.

“Well, I see I haven’t lost my touch,” he murmured, and she let out a hoarse laugh.

“I could do without the teasing,” she admitted tartly, “but that was...incredible.”

“Hmm,” Estinien murmured against her skin.  “Do you still want more?”

The sheer tone of his voice made her ache again, hungry in the best way, and she nodded.

“Absolutely,” she said breathlessly.

“You know where the oil is,” Aymeric said, looking at Estinien over her shoulder.  The dragoon murmured his assent and slipped out of bed, rummaging through the solitary drawer of a nearby table; meanwhile, Aymeric unbuttoned his trousers with a sigh of relief, slipping them and his underthings down and away all at once.  She’d reclined when Estinien moved away, but now she sat up again in interest--then leaned forward, almost lying down as she reached out to get a hand on Aymeric’s cock once it was freed.

He jumped slightly, his gaze having been on Estinien, as if he hadn’t expected her to be so forward--but she couldn’t help herself.  He very much met her expectations--in the best possible way--and she was already aching again just at the thought of having him inside her.  Having both of them inside her.

Had she gone mad?  Well, perhaps, but if so it was the best kind of madness.

She leaned in closer to lick her way up Aymeric’s shaft, and he let out a startled gasp, which prompted her to look up.  His somewhat stunned expression would stay with her for quite a while, she was sure. She dimly registered another rustle of cloth and then Estinien settling in behind her on the bed, then focused at his light chuckle.

“Well, I wouldn’t do too much of that if I were you,” he said.  “You’ll set him off, and then you’ll just have to make do with me.  Not that I’d mind…”

“No such thing,” Aymeric ground out.  “I can control myself just fine, thank you, as long as you don’t take a year with your part of it.”

Estinien made a faint noise of admonition.  “I’ll take as long as she needs, and you know it.  As if I don’t treat you with the utmost courtesy--”

“I didn’t mean that you should--”

“Boys,” she said, surprised at how low and rough her own voice was.  “Let’s just enjoy this--all three of us, hmm? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Aymeric huffed out a laugh of acknowledgement.  “Of course.”

“Don’t argue, then,” she said softly.  “Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”

“Well said,” Estinien replied, tone brief.  Without any more words, he ran one hand down the line of her back, then the other, fingers slick, further down; gently, methodically, he began working her open, from one finger to two to three, not hesitating to slow down or go back to the bottle for more oil if it seemed like she was uncomfortable.

In the meantime, Aymeric wasn’t letting her focus on it too much; with her attention distracted by Estinien, he managed to divert her attention from his cock--for the moment--and instead lifted her up to kiss her again and again even as Estinien kept patiently tending to her.

By the time the dragoon decided she was ready, she was nearly drunk on sensation once again, aching with need, and utterly breathless with anticipation at what she was about to do.  Even her wildest fantasies hadn’t really had much room for this--it had seemed impossible, as far out of reach as the distant stars. And yet, here she was--here _they_ were.

“Ready? Still want this?” Aymeric asked, searching her eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Absolutely,” she assured him.

He held his arms open and reclined back, welcoming her in; she moved closer and slid forward, letting out a sigh as she sank down on his cock.  It was good-- _very_ good--all by itself, but she wanted more.

Estinien didn’t disappoint.  He slipped up behind her, the head of his cock dragging along the cleft of her ass, slick with the same oil he’d used to work her open, and then he was pressing into her from behind, slowly, carefully, but insistently.

For a moment it _was_ too much, but when she made a noise of discomfort, both men stopped, waiting for her to adjust, until they moved again.  In the instant, it seemed like an eternity, but once they were all pressed together as tightly as could be, she felt as if it had taken no time at all.  By then, she felt so full that it was almost as if she could barely breathe, and it was a bit like a balancing act, staying in contact with both men as they began to move, seeking their pleasure along with hers.

It was, above all things, a truly overwhelming experience for her; filled by them, surrounded by them, she reached out with one arm around Aymeric’s shoulders, the other hand tangling in Estinien’s hair as he leaned against her back, chin over her shoulder.  Everything was hazy, and she felt as if she were coming apart at the seams; there was something said that made her laugh, bright and cheerful, and the men chuckle in response, and then they were moving again, harder than before, somehow staying in sync in a way that made her whole body shake, held between them, binding all three of them together with her very being.

She couldn’t rightly say how long it had been when she reached her climax for the third time, but as it rippled through her body, she could feel both men were close to their own; she urged them on, her voice low and sweet and sated, breathlessly indulgent, and they followed her over the edge.

It took several minutes for all of them to regain their composure, but she was utterly unsurprised when Aymeric slipped away to get a cloth so they could clean up a bit.  She sat up--with effort, for she was nearly boneless and feeling a deep but pleasant ache that would probably be more of an _actual_ ache in the morning, though she knew it would be worth it.  She looked at the fire, at their clothes scattered about, at the door, wondering distantly if she’d be expected to leave now.

Estinien seemed to divine the intent behind her gaze, and wrapped one long-fingered hand around her wrist.  “Don’t even think about it,” he murmured, eyes half-shut already. “Stay here. Sleep here, with us, or I know we’d--we’d both be disappointed.”

Aymeric made it back to the bed just then, and raised an eyebrow.  “Disappointed about what?” he asked, his statement punctuated with a bit of a yawn.  “I can’t say I’m disappointed about anything that happened tonight.”

“Exactly,” Estinien said.  “Let’s keep it that way.”

And so it was that after they’d cleaned up a bit she found herself tucked under the soft linens of Aymeric’s bed, head on Estinien’s shoulder, Aymeric pressed up against her back--all cradled by several thick, warm blankets, and barely able to corral her quickly fleeting thoughts as she sank toward slumber.  One thought stood out clear in her mind, however.

For the first time in a while, she was excited--and not particularly anxious--about what the future might hold.


End file.
